


who wants a crappy trophy anyway

by sophiecognito



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Gen, Humor, Reverse Chronology, The Wild Area, if this ain't the experience we all had tbh, vibin in the wild area
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiecognito/pseuds/sophiecognito
Summary: “Sure did! But that only makes me want to better myself. Where’d you learn to fight so well with weather conditions, anyway?” Bait, and not a hard one to take. Raihan appreciated theare you stupidlook she shot him.“The Wild Area,” she said.“Just-” his fang glinted. “Vibin’ in the Wild Area?”She matched his smirk, eyes brighter than a sunny day. “Just vibin in the Wild Area.”A journey to the championship, told in reverse.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 254





	who wants a crappy trophy anyway

She didn’t understand the hassle of the Gym Challenge. What was so difficult about it? 

The stadium erupted into cheers (loud), and shouts (also loud) of celebration and defeat as the announcer (incredibly loud!) let the world know she had won. She looked down at her hands, at the dynamax band, and frowned.

“Congratulations!” From the opposite end of the field, Leon charged up with a gaudy _thing_ in his arms. He also was loud, louder than everyone else if she was able to hear him clearly. 

The gym leaders trickled into the half-burnt field, smiles all around. They were a good bunch, she thought as her eyes slid from one to the other. Prompto, her exhausted but equally excitable cinderace, hopped to her side, hoping for scritches which he got. He was the real champion here.

Leon apparently didn’t think so, neither did the camera crew descending to trap her. He panted in front of her, fogging up the trophy’s gold bath like an unpleasant patina. Was it _his_? It was irrelevant as he thrust it to her all the same. 

“Here you go!” She scrambled to avoid losing her foot to the trophy’s wooden block. Even with both hands, its weight threatened to topple her. 

“Uh-” Actually, looking at it up-close it was rather- “Neat.” 

Leon slid something off his neck and the reason for his loudness became apparent. A mic. Now when he spoke, it was in a hushed, reverent tone. “Take good care of it.” 

About that. “I-” A rotom phone zipped by her face. The shutter of its camera caught her wide eyed and mid-snarl. _Raihan _. She smoothed her expression to face Leon. He deserved at least that.__

“I decline.”

Usually, silence accompanied a declaration like that, but everything was screeching harder than her Kuja’s boomburst. Leon blinked and leaned closer.

“What was that?” 

“I decline!” She raised her voice and that finally drilled into Leon’s skull. His grin froze, like a machine losing power mid-motion. She couldn’t count the heartbeats it took for him to resume breathing. 

“Hey man, welcome back to the masses!” Raihan slung his arm around an unresponsive Leon, jostling him. In response, he slid his mic on again. Raihan’s attention flitted to the Challenger, shooting her a toothy smirk. “And congrats, miss champion. You’re about to be my newest ri-”

“You don’t want the championship?” Amplified to reach even the highest seats, Leon’s question reverberated the stadium.

Oh, _now_ they shut up.

She knew the answer, but looked as if she was considering the question to bask in the silence. Though, this wasn’t the silence she craved, not really. It wasn’t the absence of sounds she really wanted. Crowds and cheering and cities lost their novelty real fast. It was a wonder she lasted this long, till this very moment where the world saw her, but she couldn’t.

She wanted to go back.

“Nah, I don’t,” she said. “Not really my place.” It wasn’t. There were no stars in the sky here. With Prompto’s help, she gave the trophy back. “You keep it! It suits you a lot better.”

No one spoke, no one moved (not even Raihan) as she surveyed the stadium one last time. “It was fun, though!” She turned from them, starter at her side, toward the exit.

“But…” Leon recovered his ability to speak, if haltingly. “What are you gonna _do_?” 

What kind of question was that? She wanted to laugh.

“Do? I’m going back to the Wild Area.”

As she left, Raihan’s cackle was the loudest thing she’d heard in ages that she savored.

* * *

Raihan liked her. He really did.

He’d heard about this challenger enough to have a mental picture (and actual pictures because the internet was a chaotic place, but Raihan knew how to navigate that storm), but wow. No matter the weather he threw at her pokemon, they molded to it in seconds, ready to strike back. Which they did, hard.

(She’d told him at the vault that weather couldn’t be controlled, not really. Raihan wanted to prove her wrong.)

“Thanks for the sandstorm, by the way,” she said once they met in the center of the pitch, headphones around her neck. Not a hint of sarcasm, a first. The last gusts subsided around them, but its vestiges kept them permeated from the crowd. Raihan allowed only what he wanted them to see. 

“Only the best for my challengers,” he said with a wink. His rotom phone hovered around him, waiting for his cue for the perfect shot. Not yet. 

“Told you.” No preamble needed. Raihan knew when to fold (as his many defeats against Leon collected in his selfie folder attested to) and laughed.

“Sure did! But that only makes me want to better myself. Where’d you learn to fight so well with weather conditions, anyway?” Bait, and not a hard one to take. Raihan appreciated the _are you stupid_ look she shot him.

“The Wild Area,” she said.

“Just-” his fang glinted. “Vibin’ in the Wild Area?” 

She matched his smirk, eyes brighter than a sunny day. “Just vibin in the Wild Area.”

* * *

The poor thing stuck out like a sore thumb in Spikemuth. 

Like, not in style or ‘mon. Her toxtricity loomed behind her like a bodyguard, pressing its hands against her ears while it rocked to the beat of Piers’ song. Nah, her ‘mon was pretty solid and on brand with the chain link fences and the graffiti painting the town neon. An extra guitar riff for it.

He knew the challenger was in what the city dubbed the _gym district_ so he’d set up an impromptu concert, you know, as an intimidation tactic or as a treat if the trainer had taste. The odds were fifty-fifty. 

Like a deerling in headlights, she stared at nothing, eyes fixed somewhere above Piers. Mosh pit etiquette worked if everyone was dancing and moving, but the crowd would swallow her if it wasn’t for her ‘mon and even then most of his audience dwarfed it, mohawk or not. This was sliding hard on the neither scale. She wasn’t intimidated at the big, scary, dark-type leader; she trembled despite it.

Once the song transitioned into its last instrumental section, Piers twirled his mic stand as he jumped off the stage. The crowd parted for the tiny battling arena, leaving the challenger with breathing room. Her hands were over her ‘mon’s, still sporting a thousand yard stare.

“Welcome, challenger!” He boomed to quiet his loveable rabblerousers. Her toxtricity stopped tapping its foot, electricity surging like an open flame. Piers walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Barely a response. Uh oh.

“You okay there? Want to go someplace quieter?” he whispered. That snapped her out with a rapid blink. Better. 

“Give me a moment,” she said, matching his tone. Even softer, “This always happens.” Ah, shit. 

“Need a breather or two, then?” As he said that, her breathing deepened as she nodded. Actually- “Hey!” He motioned to his guitarist, then mimed two fists over his ears. Thankfully, he got the message and scrambled off the stage. 

“You know, you don’t have to worry about that extra sh-stuff, here. We keep it real, not like the rest of the gyms,” Piers said. 

“No stadium?” 

“Nope. We’re in the arena right now.” 

“You dynamax here?”

Best part of his unique position was breaking the news. “Nah, I don’t do that. My pokemon don’t _need_ a gimmick to win.” 

She cracked a tiny smile. “Win?” The toxticitry’s rumble sounded like laughter deep from its chest. “We’ll see about that.” Alright, spell over. A job well done, if he’d say so himself. His hand slid off her shoulder.

“I like the sound of that, challenger! But before that-” His hand outstretched in waiting, the guitarist dropped a pair of his best noise-cancelling headphones. She blinked, before Piers thrust them to her. “-so your bodyguard over there’s free to battle.”

All in all, losing didn’t hurt quite like it used to.

* * *

It was a brisk and frigid day, perfect for training.

Melony’s newest training partner thought so as well. 

She pressed a gloved hand to her cheek as her frosmoth dodged the obstagoon’s chaotic swipes. My my, to think she found such a willing partner outside of her gym trainers. She knew their strategies inside out and they’d become much too predictable; a new challenge was welcomed. 

The wind whistled and rattled the trees, showering the girl’s camp with a fresh fall of snow. Still, they trained, still the flame of her fire kept strong. It was a well made fire pit and that dedication bled into her battling prowess.

The obstagoon (Lulu, was it?), misjudged its jumping tackle heading straight toward the girl’s tent. With a loud rip, it deflated, the rods clattering its perish song. Melony resisted clicking her tongue at the slip. She was _not_ a gym trainer who would nod and mumble a _yes, ma’am_ if this were pointed out in her usual style. This wasn’t- them. No.

“Lulu!” the girl cried out, before giggling at its side. “Silly goon.” She ran her hand through its thick fur. 

“Your tent,” Melony pointed out. Better than talking about her pokemon’s form. She stood behind her as she inspected for any-

“Ugh, not again,” she said and sure enough, her hand went through a substantial rip. “Lulu, you gotta be more careful next time, ‘kay? You’re not a tiny linoone anymore.” In answer, it covered her in a giant hug. 

“Camping’s over, for the moment,” Melony said, her frosmoth landing gently on her shoulder. The girl turned to her, her exhale coming out of her nose in two streams of fog. 

“Why?” She was so slight, her obstagoon a makeshift coat over the thin one she wore. Gordie’d done the same, thinking it a clever disguise to evade her. 

“It’s broken. There’s no way it’ll protect you from the cold,” Melony said, crossing her arms. The hand on her cheek was the icing to the practiced motion. “You can buy a new one in the city. I remember there being a trainer discount?” She shook her head. “You’ll find out, anywho.”

“I don’t have to buy a new one. This one’s plenty alright,” the girl said, her hand tracing the edges of an older patch with wobbly needlework. “It was feeling drafty the last few days, but nothing I can’t handle by tonight.”

The past few days, a blizzard had swept the city and its outlying routes.

Melony did not like what it implied. No wonder the obstagoon missed, no wonder the girl’s hands shook when she thought no one was looking. It wasn’t nerves. She was sure the girl didn’t know she was the gym leader. 

“I can tell that you won’t. If you insist, you can mend the tent at the inn, but you’re not doing it outside, fire or not,” Melony said, digging her boots into the snow. 

“I…” The girl retreated into her living coat. “I have a cinderace to keep me warm.”

A weak excuse. In the days they had trained together, Melony knew arguing with her was like pulling teeth out of a wriggling, screaming child. She let her know as such. 

“Don’t deflect.”

“ _I’m not_.” She huffed, but her glare softened. “I’ve handled worse in the Wild Area. Have you seen the blizzards over there? Now that’s icy!” Melony’s eyes widened.

“You didn’t have a choice then, but you do now.” There was the city at walking distance. 

“Oh, I did have a choice.” Lulu nuzzled the top of the girl’s head. 

“I see,” Melony said, mustering her iciest tone. “Well, I’m _choosing_ to stay here until you’re bundled up inside the city.” 

“What!”

It took the overcast sky turning darker for the girl to finally allow herself to be escorted to Circhester. Melony wrangled her enough to be checked in at the Ionia, her treat, before she could protest even more. The girl’s gratitude was not in her expression, but in how her hands finally stopped trembling. No thanks, just a bubbly yet curt goodbye and she shut her door close.

“Exhausting,” Melony mumbled once she arrived home. Her eldest daughter helped her with her little critters and they put them to bed, extra quilts on each of their beds. What a long day and tomorrow she had two challengers for the gym. As she checked her phone, the past lanced past everything for the future.

She went as far as finding him on her contact list, but her finger hovered on the call button. A bitter pill, cold as her pokemon and her city and herself.

Sighing she turned the phone off.

Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

Drab.

From the start, Opal knew this challenger would fail on the spot to be her worthy successor, what with her drab and stained battling uniform. Not even her pastel hat saved her ensemble.

She won, of course. A corvinight and a cinderace was all she needed to acquire the badge. A swift victory and a swifter handshake before she jogged off the pitch, holding tight to her hat. 

No matter how she escaped, she didn’t go far as Opal found her hours later roaming the town. Head tilted up, she talked to her hat with various gestures and pauses to admire the city’s luminescent mushrooms. Well, she would let her be; her tea would not boil itself.

“Hey, hi!” The challenger waved at her. Opal nodded in acknowledgement as was her usual, continuing her route home. That was that. 

It was not enough, though as she bounded to her side. The drab comment stood for her casual clothing, bar the-

On closer inspection, that was _not_ a hat. 

The hatenna flopped its ears with every movement its trainer did as she launched without preamble a flood of words. 

“This place isn’t really half bad, Miss Opal. It’s super serene and the bioluminescence lends the perfect amount of light everywhere.”

Opal wasn’t sure she was capable of any eloquence. Still, it would _not_ interrupt her walk, but the challenger followed, bright eyed. If she wanted to blather till she shut the door, she was welcomed to.

“But I think the forest to _get_ here really takes the cake. It’s enchanting! Amazing! So peaceful.” 

“You consider a forest full of fairies to be peaceful,” Opal said and her next tap of her cane struck the ground hard enough to rattle her bracelets. 

“Aw, fairies leave you alone if you don’t have anything to offer.” There was a kernel of truth there, but her mawile would say otherwise. The challenger’s fingers brushed a passing mushroom, lighting up a patch of road with a sickly blue color. “I bet it would be fantastic to just lay down and sleep on the forest floor.” The hattena settled deeper into her tangled nest of a hair. Opal sighed and stopped.

“A word of advice, challenger,” Opal said, raising a thin hand to pet the hatenna’s antenna. Neither pokemon and trainer flinched at the touch. She had to be careful; she knew how that line of thinking ended. Better to nip it in the bud. The last time something similar happened, the League would not stop sniffing around like a pack of clueless growlithe. 

“Mhm?” 

“I don’t recommend having a hatenna so close to your ears or your heart.” A pure psychic would elicit the same warning, but one that grows to fairy? Lord. “The forest might look enticing, but don’t linger while you cross it.” 

“I’ll...keep that in mind,” the challenger said, not as an outright dismissal, how the warning was usually received. Brow knitted, she bowed her head, hatenna’s hair swishing like ill-gotten pendulums. “Yuna dampens the noise a lot, but I guess I don’t need it here.” 

“Noise,” she echoed dryly.

“Yup!” She added pep back to her tone. It was too late in the day for that. “Thank you, though. Really.” 

There was nothing left to say, really, but she _did_ walk Opal all the way home.

* * *

“Whaaaaat? What’d you mean they don’t let you go to the Wild Area?” she asked.

Allister shrugged, turning his whole head away. It was weird, the latest challenger speaking to him outside the stadium. His gengar had wanted to play outside tonight so they both snuck out to do so. 

He’d found her staring at the mural in the moonlight with an expression his mother would shoot him when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was strange to see it in the open.

“Mum won’t let me…” he said, pushing his mask closer to his face. A dangerous place, she’d say as she blanketed him into a too tight embrace. If only he had the words to let her know that he would be protected. 

“Really?” She cocked her head to the side, reminding him of a haunter twisting its body side to side. Silly. “Mine did and look at me!” He couldn’t in the darkness, but he tried. She looked-

“Dusty…”

Her laugh was a windchime in the wind. 

“Nothing wrong with that, now is it?”

“No.”

Above them, Wilde the gengar and her corviknight sniped at each other playfully, blending into the dark sky. For a moment, Allister wished he had brought his smiling mask. 

“Is it...fun?” he asked, tugging at his sleeves. He forgot how cold it got at night. 

“Tons of fun! There’s this place you will love, full of hilarious ghost types, called Watchtower Ruins and the gollet and drifloon like to play war with each other-“

“Are there ghastly?” That _did_ sound fun.

She nodded, sitting down and motioning for him to do the same. He did and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Yup! They do their own thing which is to float around and be themselves. One time, a pack snuck into my camp and licked every berry in my inventory. Still ate ‘em, though.”

Allister giggled. 

“Wilde used to do that,” he said. Now all he did was pretend to be someone’s shadow. Mum didn’t like that, but he was just being silly. 

“Cool! That’s why you gotta visit. Oh, Oh! I’ll go with you if your mum throws a fit about it!” His face snapped up to hers. She grinned with closed eyes. 

“M’thanks…” he sniffed.

Wilde’s presence manifested behind him and his stubby arms tried to hug him. Only he knew of the tears collecting on the rim of Allister’s mask, but that was fine. Happy tears. They were happy tears.

* * *

She was the last active challenger of the circuit to arrive at Kabu’s gym. He was relieved to see her name pop up, months after beating Nessa. Even with his eye for detail, it took a beat too long to recognize her from the sea of challengers six months ago at the opening ceremony. 

It was a rewarding challenge to lose against her, nonetheless. Every victory as is every defeat was a step forward for Kabu. The synergy between her and her pokemon surged with every move and attack. Call it an old man’s curiosity, but such strength didn’t come naturally.

So he asked after the match where she was all that time. No matter his age, there’s plenty to learn still. Was she devising a strategy for the circuit? Honing her edge razor sharp against every opponent? The evidence was clear as Hoenn morning for any of his theories.

She shook her head with a chuckle. “I was in the Wild Area.”

A-Ah.

“Training?” he asked, nodding. That was respectable. He too would venture into the Galarian wilderness to better his team.

She scratched a cut just below her chin. “I...guess?”

“You guess?” he echoed weakly, waiting for elaboration. The locker room felt stuffy.

“Mhm.” She leaned against her drednaw’s shell who appeared as fresh faced as if it hadn’t battled moments before. “I mean, I just do what I always do while I’m there.” 

“May I ask what that is?”

“I-uh-it’s not like a set thing? Just vibin’.” With a swing of her legs, she sat on top of drednaw. 

“I see…” What did that _mean_? Words to ponder later. “Thank you for your advice and for an excellent battle.” Pressing a fist to his open palm, he bowed. 

“Sure, no problem! We should have another one later on or something,” she said, nudging her turtle with a soft tap of her sneaker. “Bye!” Kabu saw them leave before slowly, slowly running a hand down his face. It wasn’t everyday he felt his age.

Mustering all his strength to push back his reflex to throw his phone across the room, Kabu called Raihan that night.

“Sup, Kabu.”

“I have a question that I’m sure you will be able to answer.” He breathed deeply, imagining smoke billowing from his nose like a torkoal.

“Sure thing,man, fire away.”

“What.” He sighed. “What is vibin'?”

Raihan’s laughter crackled against his ear.

* * *

“Hey, you okay?”

Nessa had no idea how the challenger found her, but there she was, a shadow in the setting sun. Talk about horrible timing. 

With a sniff partially covered by her hand, Nessa met her gaze full on, bloodshot eyes be damned. “How’d you get here?” This sliver of beach was considered part of the stadium, in short, private property. The waves filled the silence.

With a shrug, the challenger said, “I walked. Oh, I’m not supposed to be here, right?” Her worried expression remained and Nessa was close to smacking her hand away. Pity. She didn’t need it for this fight with Sonia. She wanted the ocean to wash away her feelings, a surge to wipe them away. 

“You’re trespassing private property,” Nessa said weakly, gripping her knees. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Ah! That’s why it’s so quiet here!” Her laughter sent a jolt through Nessa. “Is it trespassing if you _let_ me stay?” She heard rustling and when Nessa looked up again, the challenger was on her knees unloading her bag. Okay, no, what was she doing? 

Nessa made to rise to her feet, ready to wear her gym leader status. “Wha-”

“I’m making dinner.” A heavy thunk and a giant cauldron dispersed sand at Nessa’s feet. 

“The Budew Drop here gives free dinner to trainers…” God, her throat hurt on top of this whole situation. 

“It does?” She hummed and tilted her head to the side. Out came the ingredients. “Never been to and anyway, they don’t do curry like I do.” 

Nessa touched the rim of the cauldron, leftover spices wafting up from an incomplete cleaning, but really, no matter how much you clean, the scent stayed. Her lips curled upward; she righted it for the challenger. 

“You can stay,” Nessa said. The sky reminded her of Sonia’s hair and long days of messing around with recipes and laughing, laughing at their mistakes. 

“Awesome!” 

“If-” Nessa closed her eyes. If only she hadn’t left her phone at the gym, the apology fresh in her mind their argument would’ve been done already. It was a dumb one, she knew. At the same time, comfort food sounded pretty _nice_ right now. “I get to help you.” 

The challenger shot a smile so open and sincere that her spat with Sonia felt inconsequential.

“Obviously.”

They ended up cooking late into the night, the warmth seeping into Nessa’s bones long after.

* * *

Milo’d seen more than the garden variety of trainers as the first gym for years. He thinned and weeded out an innumerable number of trainers so yeah he’d seen, as the others would say, some shit. 

“Hey, uh,” the challenger picked at the hem of her uniform with a visible frown. “I know I’m supposed to meet you at the pitch, outside? Soon? But I have a question.” 

“Sure, go ahead!” He’d never been cornered before a match like this. She was supposed to be on the opposite side of the stadium, but he was a gym leader, expected to lend a helping hand to beginners like her. 

“How does it all work?”

What.

“Sorry?”

Oh.

Today, it was one of those.

She bit the inside of her cheek, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “You know, _this_.” Even muffled, the announcer hyped the audience with a grass inspired chant that reverberated throughout the locker room. 

“Battling?” Someone wake him up.

Shaking her head, she pursed her lips at the accusation. “Nah. I know how to battle, but I mean we battle with _everyone_ watching and making noise?”

“That’s how it’s always been in Galar.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “You know it’s normal to be a little nervous.” Or absolutely terrified. Screaming kids, challengers rendered mute, tears. So much tears. It took a special kind of gumption to take on the league. 

“I’m not _really_ nervous,” she told herself. “It’s different than what I’m used to, s’all.” Rocking on her heels, she avoided his frown. Okay, then. Too bad, she couldn’t hide the slight tremor rocking her hands. 

“You’ll be alright!” He forced extra pep because that was why he chose his job. “Why’s it different?” She started to speak, but he barrelled on. “The people, right? You’re used to battlin’ with only your opponent and your pokemon and that’s completely normal.” 

“That’s true, sorta.” With one last kick to the ground, she looked up. “I did choose this so!” It was the cheeriest shrug he’d seen in a while. “Thanks for the pep talk, big guy!” 

Okay, okay, good turnaround. 

With a thumb’s up and a good luck, Milo sent her to her side of the stadium. _She’ll make it_ , he thought. 

She did, sweeping his team with a lone cinderace.

* * *

Before becoming the challenger, she was just herself.

Just her, the Wild Area, and a dirty scorbunny hopping into her campsite.

Wait.

That was new. 

“Hey lil buddy, what happened to you?” she asked, still overlooking her bubbling curry. Needed a little more time. The open flames must’ve attracted it. The bun regarded her with caution, crouched low to the ground, the item in its mouth crumpling. 

Huh. Funny thing, that.

She approached it slowly, glad the linoone that liked to hang out was foraging for berries elsewhere. Human contact must’ve been trained into the scorbunny since it didn’t bolt once she breached its space. Closer, what she thought was dirt was clearly morphing into dried blood. 

“Uh oh…” The scorbunny didn’t _look_ hurt, just scared, but her touch was gentle when she ran her hand over its fur. No flinching and no injuries. That was a massive relief and her shoulders sagged. 

“Okay, little one, what’s up with this?” She took the letter from its mouth, once it started bumping her hand for scritches. Adorable and a good sign. With a hum, she walked back to her dinner to give it a swirl. Ain’t that a coincidence that she was cooking her extra spicy recipe tonight. The scorbunny would enjoy it!

Crumpled as it was, the letter was perfectly legible after she smoothed it over her knee. A corvisquire landed gently on top of her tent, surveying her camp. She was a sweet, haughty one and with a flutter, it landed next to the scorbunny to pick and clean the matted blood off. 

The letter, though, was funny. It said endorsement, but it wasn’t a product. On and on, it went about the qualities of a mysterious _person_ , capable of challenging the gym circuit. High hopes for this up and coming trailblazer of a trainer which-

“Neat, that’s my name!” 

And in tiny letters at the end, it specified that the letter was mandatory to take on the challenge. Not a lot of choice there, was it? She stared at the letter long enough that her curry smelled the better half of burned. 

The same name. 

It promised a change of pace. No, the pace was fine. Everything was fine, a constant thrum of an ecosystem in motion, the stars witness to everything. Curiosity nibbled at her, as insistent as her curry that if she didn’t act _now_ she would have a fire, again.

“Should I do it?” she asked the scorbunny after they had their fill of food. Definitely not her best, but they both ate with gusto. She lay on her back, one arm acting as a pillow, the other holding the letter. 

Her answer was a rambunctious scorbunny jumping on her stomach. 

And that was that.

“A League challenge, eh? How hard can it be?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, that Wild Area, pretty fun, right?


End file.
